Shades of Memory
by SabbatSpiral
Summary: Darkness and shadows descend on the Island of Sodor and its clear that none of the engines, regardless of where they are, will ever be the same again. Tw. Violence for later chapters.


**Chapter One**

He wasn't sure what woke him from the darkness, the chill wind, the moonlight filtering through the bare branches or the shrill cry that still echoed in the air. Leaves crunched under unsteady hands as he tried to push himself up, arms shaking with the effort. Sharp pain brought him back down with an even louder rustle of leaves that failed to cushion the fall. Curling into himself, he nursed the hand. Rolling onto his back, he opened his fist to the moonlight. Silver caught shades of red slowly beginning to roll over the pale skin. A sliver of wood had embedded itself deep into the meat of his palm. Stinging pain spasmed again as the breeze caught the wound, teasing the splinter. Cold air set his teeth on edge as he hissed. Shapes blurred as tears formed. Another drop of blood spilled over joining the other. Easing upwards, he cradled the hand smudging the neat trails of red with his other hand. The breeze instead stole into his body, chilling his entire body. He felt cold. He had never felt so cold in his life. Shivers broke over him, tightening his curled position.

Tilting the palm so the moonlight could catch it again, he examined the thorn. The end stuck out, shining black. Trembling fingers gripped the end, tugging it. Pain exploded over his palm but the thorn slipped free with a few more drops of blood rolling down. Throwing it aside, he held the palm close hoping the pain would finally stop. The wind didn't. It drained more heat from him as it blew about the branches and picked up the dead leaves that covered the floor. Shadows covered everything making it difficult for him to pick out anything but the heavy trunks of trees around the edge of where ever he was. That all he could see. Trees and the full moon shining down. Another shrill cry echoed up. His heart pounded as he fell to the side, glancing for its source. The fluttering of feathers drew his attention upwards. An owl had landed on a branch in the tree beside him, its white silvery in the moonlight. A shuddering breath began to relax his fear. It was only an owl.

He hissed again as his bleeding palm had stuck to several leaves. Peeling them off, he saw the blood still continuing to roll down. Looking down at himself for something that could stop it, he saw something beside him. A black hat or at least he thought it was a hat. Was it his? He picked it up with his other hand turning it around. The soft wool looked perfect. Pressing the hat against the wound causing another jolt but this time he was expecting it. The moon had reached up higher into the sky and the clearing was beginning to take on shapes rather than just murky shadow. It was definitely a clearing in a forest. He remembered… he staggered upright from the ground clinging to the tree for support, damp leaves fluttering off with the movement. He remembered… a few wobbly steps didn't send him to the ground but a tree root threatened it. He remembered… within moments he stood in the centre of the clearing directly in the silver moonlight that flooded down unhindered by branches now.

He remembered nothing.

He gazed up at the moon as it shone, transfixed. It was so round and perfect. Nothing. He could remember nothing. Not even a name. Shivers gripped him again, threatening to send him back to the ground as he pulled his hand closer. But the moon transfixed him, holding him upright somehow, feet digging into the carpet of leaves. He didn't know where he was but he began to walk again, one foot in front of the other. The moon still held his gaze, drawing him onward. He didn't want to look away. It was too beautiful. He knew nothing but the moon. Step by step, he saw the trees move past him, branches overlapping the moon, all cast in black shadow with only a few stray leaves still attached. The moon drew him on. He didn't stop. His pace grew faster dodging around trees to keep up with the moon that stayed always in the front. He didn't know what he was doing but he had to follow. That light was all he knew. That bright round light. He nearly broke into a run. It still wasn't fast enough. Why did he feel so slow? Everything felt so still. It was wrong. Stillness was wrong. He kept walking fixed on the light. He had to reach the light. If he didn't then… he couldn't remember but that light. He needed to get to that light but this was too slow.

Then he ran.

Breath echoed in his ears, rhythmic and pounding. That was right. That sound was right. He pushed his legs faster and faster, aiming for the round light. This was still too slow. The Trees barely slipped by any faster than before and clouds had begun to gather at the edges.

"No...NO. Don't go. Don't go before I get there."

He pushed harder and the ground disappeared. His eyes met darkness as he fell swallowing him whole. The Moon clouded over turning silver into oil.

Gordon didn't like changing his walking path. He didn't like surprises but least of all he didn't like a surprise change to his path without being notified. The sign was bold and red. Path closed to due construction. He stood at its feet, glaring down as if his disapproval could make the issue change its mind and move on elsewhere with a contrite apology for disrupting his day. Gresley sat back on his hind legs patiently, looking longingly at the path and then back up at his master not sure as to why they weren't walking on the path they usually took across the town green and up onto the fields. Gordon huffed, scratching the St bernard behind the ears for his patience, slipping the lead back over his wrist.

"Come on boy… lets go to the forest. Evening walk in the morning. What next?"

Gresley stood back up with his master's tug, glancing up at the path but obediently trotting along the walled path beside the green. The town hadn't yet woken up. No one but the occasional car making the sluggish journey to work or another fellow dog walkers was about. That meant silence. Blissful, personal silence before the chaotic buzz of the office and the endless streams of

paperwork demanding his attention. It was a good job, he couldn't deny that. Paid excellently but he sometimes wondered if he was really meant to be stuck in an office, typing up timetables for lorry shipments to and from clients, pinning up maps with string to plot journeys, and filling out endless forms. He shook his head, pulling a book from his pocket, opening it up at the bookmark determined not to consider the day's frustrations ahead until he really had to.

The sun crept up the horizon, turning the sky into pastel mist edged in gold. Mist rolled over the hills and down over the brown fields, freshly tilled and waiting for new crops come spring. The icy dampness had left a glittering coat of frost over the wall's mosses and shrubs, and bare twigs of the trees dangling with small icicles. Cobwebs had been turned into a network of crystal that spread across the grass, freezing the little muddy puddles that had been left from yesterday's downpour. Gordon snuggled down into his heavy blue coat, feeling the chill sneak down his scarf and jumper. It really was cold this morning. The autumn colours had faded to a cold brown and winter was beginning to make herself known. Christmas wouldn't be far behind. Gordon looked up from his book to turn up from the main road up onto a side road were the tarmac had crumbled into potholes and gravel. The tree coverage was more here but they were more like skeletons without their leaves and only the occasional crow sat in the branches screaming at the sun as it rose. The road wall turned into a fence lined by bare bushes with a line of small cottages behind them. Gordon could hear the hiss of boilers beginning to wake up ready for the occupants in the morning, with a few already venting steam. The gardens were as brown as the fields save for the occasional holly tree and crawling ivy. Tarmac disappeared into proper gravel, crunching underfoot as they reached the forest gate.

Gordon unclipped gresley allowing him to slip through the wooden slats while he opened the gate for himself, swinging it shut with a loud metallic clat. Winding up the lead around his hand, Gordon let Gresley happily run a few paces ahead of him. The dog panted with excitement, breath misting in the air, running a few paces before looking back to see if Gordon was still there. Gordon had reopened his book, turning the pages as he walked occasionally meeting Gresley's gaze to let him know he was still watching. Normally dogs weren't supposed to be let off the lead while in the forest but Gordon didn't think anyone would mind in the morning if Gresley had a good run around while he made a circuit of the forest. Gresley noticed this, taking off down the road with one last look back. Gordon knew that all he needed to do was to either blow his whistle or call and Gresley would return at full pace so there was very little to worry about. He felt himself pick up a faster pace, nose still buried in the book, not really interested in the damp icy brown nature around him. Trees were only interesting when they were the perfect shade of green and that only happened in high summer. Summer was a long way off.

The breeze suddenly rustled the trees to life, pulling off the remaining leaves in a swirl. One landed in Gordon's book, all shrivelled and brittle. He brushed it away, feeling it turn to dust. The air was so still and thick with the gathering mist as it rolled off the the hills and among the trees. Spooky would have been the correct word. Gordon turned another page, spare hand buried in his pocket to keep warm despite already wearing leather gloves. The chill seemed to grow despite the rising sun. With any luck, the sun would burn off the mist and ice, snow this early would complicate matters. Breath swirled into the air like steam, competing with the mist that had begun to collect at his feet. Reading began difficult as the mist settled onto the pages, soaking them. With a huff, Gordon snapped the book shut slipping it away into his pocket. Burying his other hand into the pocket, he hunched the coat closer around him.

The trail turned off into the forest with only another slatted gate cutting off the end into a muddy field. Gresley was waiting for him at the gate, patiently thumping his tail against the ground waiting for his master to catch up. Gordon smiled, bending down to pet Gresley rewarding his patience with a good scratch. He didn't clip the lead back on but waved a hand down the path, Gresley easily recognising the command. He shot off again among the trees. Gordon didn't pull his book out again, not trusting the ground to stay as flat or smooth as the gravel road behind him. His toes ached with the memory of a stumble he had taken straight into a stagnant ditch. The coat he had been wearing didn't survive and he had lost a shoe to the mud. That had not been a pleasant walk home. His gaze fixed on the path, watching for any roots that might decide to reenact that day. The ground however was frozen hard, even under the trees with mist swirling about, his boots gripping nicely with the cover of leaves. He kicked aside brambles that had begun to creep across the path. The hedge beside him gnarled upwards with only the ivy still green, the brown field visible through it. Golden clouds had faded to silver and the pastels had become blue now as the sun rose higher. He glanced at his watch. Half an hour left. Gordon wondered if he would have time to make the forest circuit and still be home in time for work. Digging in his pocket he looked for the whistle. A sudden bark to his right broke his thoughts, deep and continuous broken with intermittent whines. Gordon swerved right off the path, running towards the sound.

"Gresley!"

Gresley came bounding up to him still barking, bouncing around him. Gordon stopped as he watched the dog circle.

"Gresley.. Gresley Calm down. What is it?"

Gresley grabbed his coat hem, whining tugging it firmly before taking off again, Gordon racing to follow. They were deeper in the forest than Gordon had ever been before. No path took them this way and it was clear why. The ground broke up into small cliffs and ravines, rocky and steep, some with very little space in between them. Gresley had stopped at one, barking constantly, pawing at the ground clearly concerned. Gordon inched towards the edge, peering over, stomach clenching at the drop. In the depression was a curled up body. A young teenager by the looks of it.

"Oh no…"

His feet were already moving before Gordon even had a moment to find a way down. Seeing a lower ledge, he slipped onto his knees. Jumping down, Gordon prayed it didn't give way under him, spying the next ledge beside it. Reaching down to the ledge it was just a simple jump into the depression. A thick carpet of leave cushioned his landing but it still rattled his knees. Gordon dropped beside the boy, taking a wrist to feel for a pulse.

"He's like ice…"

The pulse throbbed weakly under his fingers but it was definitely there. Gresley had found his way down leaping gracefully between rocks that would have been impossible for Gordon. He wailed mournfully, nudging the boy with his nose.

"He's alive boy, its ok."

Gordon tried to shake the boy gently at first, then harder. The boy gave the softest moan curling into himself but didn't respond.

"Hey… Hey kid. Can you hear me?"

Shrugging off the warm coat, he draped it over the boy, cushioning his head with the scarf. The chill air instantly hit him despite the jumper. Gordon shivered but tucked the coat around the boy.

"Stay with him Gresley." The dog gruffed, nestling close to the boy, head settling just over his chest. Tugging a leather glove with his teeth, Gordon's numb fingers dialled into his phone, the dial tone only adding to the panic building in his chest.

"999… what service do you need?"

"Ambulance. I'm in Hamsterley Woods and I've found a young man unconscious after a fall I think."

"Alright, unconscious.. Is he breathing?"

"Yes but he's very cold. I think he's been out here all night, I've put my coat around him and he doesn't seem to have a spinal injury."

"Okay Hamsterley woods… where about?"

Gordon glanced around, he didn't recognise anything. The cliffs surrounded them, great stone slabs covered in moss blocking out even the sunlight. He really wasn't sure how deep they were into the forest and from the distant hiss of static, signal was fading.

"I'm… I'm not entirely sure. It's quite deep in and you may want to bring ropes."

"Alright… we'll have to track the call signal, can you stay on the line please? What is your name?"

"Gordon, Gordon Seaver"

Gordon barely heard the other questions, letting the robotic answers roll off his tongue with the practice of a shippings administrator. He knelt back down by the boy, still holding the phone to his ear, the sounds of a call centre clashing with the cawing of crows and the crunch of leaves as he settled. He reached out brushing aside strands of dark brown hair obscuring his face. Boyishly round with a snub nose, smudged with mud and grit clearly from the fall. Other than being unconscious, he seemed ok. Except he was so tightly curled up. Gordon gently rolled him onto his back trying to see if there really was any injuries that the chatting dispatcher needed to know about. Wrapped in a black hat, the boy seemed to be even unconscious, very protective of his right arm. He reached out for the hat, feeling its soft woolen knit but then a very unexpected texture appeared. It crumbled under his fingers coming away red. He peeled back the wool, to reveal a deep wound that had begun to close but was still clearly oozing blood.

"Ok.. He has one injury. A hand wound… looks like something sliced into it."

"Good to know. Is it infected?"

"Can't tell but he seems to have wrapped it in his own beanie to stem the bleeding."

He had been crying too, and recently. The tears had dried away but Gordon could see the red puffy marks ringed around his eyes.

"... I wonder who you are?"

"Sorry?" the voice sounded from the receiver sounding concerned. Gordon jumped remembering he was still on the phone.

"Oh.. sorry… I said I don't recognise him from the town."

"Ah I see. You sound remarkably calm Mr Seaver."

"Ma'am I run a shipping administration office… calm is well practised. Its not the first time, I've pulled someone out of a hole.."

"Don't move him Mr Seaver. We don't know if he does have a back injury."

Gordon stopped. He had heard the words but they weren't right. He couldn't remember pulling someone out of a hole at all, so why had he said that at all. Shaking his head, he covered the bizarre mistake.

"Sorry, I meant dealt with someone unconscious. Not sure why I said pulled out of a hole."

The mist had faded replaced by a breeze that decided to swirl down vortex like. Gordon felt the shivers increase in violence, fingers now slightly blue. The dampness had soaked into his trouser knees, mixing coldness with the spreading pins and needles.

"I'm probably getting cold myself without my coat."

"Well hold on Mr Seaver, the paramedics have your location and are flying in by helicopter."

And they better be here soon or they will have two patients on their hands. Gordon bit back the retort, temper beginning to flare with it all. Irritation at the dispatcher wouldn't help much even if it might momentialy ease the fury. The boy hadn't shifted after being rolled onto his back or being examined by Gordon; Gresley hadn't shifted either, eyes dozing shut as he relaxed into his job.

Gordon felt the the niggling edge of a headache building. Shifting down he sat amongst the leaves, parallel to the boy. Work trousers be he wouldn't give for a fire about now, anything except this damn cold.

The distant sound of a helicopter caught the edge of his hearing, perking even Gresley from his task. Tilting to listen, the sound came closer. Vaguely he wondered how they would find him in these woods. Heat cameras his mind helpfully suggested, anything bigger than a roe deer or badger.

Something seemed to have reached the boy, as the sound chugged overhead shattering the quiet with its engines, he shifted curling away from the noise back into a fetal position. Gordon instantly pulled him back, seeing eyelids slide open ever so slightly.

The boy's eyes were glazed, dazed and slide back shut as quickly as they had opened. Gordon wasn't about to have that.

"Oh no you don't. Wake back up, the paramedics are here."

Gordon shook his shoulder this time with more of his strength behind it. The boy whimpered softly, eyes scrunched against the intrusion, curling further away. Gresley nuzzled his face, licking it gently. That got more of a reaction.

"Time to wake up."

"... But its so cold… no...fire."

Gordon huffed but continued to shake the boy to keep his attention. He needed to be awake. The boy whimpered again even more loudly, turning into a moan. Gordon stopped shaking him, falling forward to lean over him. Brow still furrowed, the eyes inched open awareness clearly returning with each second. The breath that had caught in his throat softly relaxed. Goal achieved.

"Welcome to the land of the living."

Gresley, seeing his charge awake, barked with happiness tail thumping against the leaves and tongue lolling out. The boy seemed bewildered looking at Gordon with such intense blue eyes that he wondered if he had hit his head instead during the fall.

"Are you ok…"

The boy didn't respond but just gazed at him, owlish eyes clearly disorientated. The eyes didn't even blink, but simply stared at him. Tears welled at the edges as his mouth opened, jaw moving as if trying to speak but only a hoarse cry was audible. Gordon put a hand to his forehead, forcing what he thought was a comforting smile. Tiny sobs hitched his chest sounding more like hiccups than anything. Something stabbed through him. A pain that seemed to tug on something deep within that wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and sooth the tears away. Gordon blinked, the sudden rush of feeling almost overwhelming but pushed through to stroke back the mousy hair hoping something might reach him. Gresley nuzzled the boy's cheek, whimpering softly.

"hey. Hey, it's ok. Medics are on their way, they will look after you when they find us." Gordon maintained the smile.

As if on cue, Gresley lifted his head to the ridge as the bushes rustled, giving a short sharp bark as paramedics appeared above them, harnesses clipped around their yellow jackets. They waved, fixing a line to rock to abseil down. Gordon stepped away from the boy whose crying hadn't stopped but was beginning to soften. The need to get out was beginning to compete with the protective urge. One of the medics was waiting for him, asking him questions that Gordon had already answered but repeated again if only to be out. The medic when told that Gordon had simply jumped down, looked shocked eyeing the sheer face of the gorge but seeing that Gordon didn't seem to be anything but chilled, he clipped him into a harness.

"I would like my coat back please."

The jacket was handed to him just as he felt the jerk of ropes tightening and himself being pulled upwards. A shiver ran up his spine as he pulled the coat around him, a headache building. For some reason as his eyes slid shut, the rustling stalks of reeds seemed to dance in his vision accompanying strange rippling lights. Clearly the new migraine medication wasn't working as intended. Hands seized his upper arms and Gordon wobbled upright as his feet made contact with solid ground. Gresley soon followed, shaking down before bounding into Gordon's waiting arms, pink tongue slobbering over his face. The boy, now strapped to a yellow board, came after. His cries had stopped, an oxygen mask over his face. Over the beeps and whistles of the radios and the sharp orders being barked, Gordon caught a few words.

"Definitely concussion and hypothermia… no bleeding or broken bones. Damn how did he managed that?"

"And with that fall… I've seen worse with much lower."

Gordon nestled closer to Gresley, letting the dog's warmth banish the chill. Gordon's heart leapt from his chest as a hand landed on his back. A medic smiled down at him, reaching out to scratching Gresley's ears. Gordon's brow furrowed but held back the lashing response.

How do you feel? Are you sure you're alright?"

Gordon shrugged off the hand, nodding. All he wanted was home. Slipping the jacket on properly and feeling the soft wool keep the warmth in, Gordon stood up from the rock, clipping the lead onto Gresley. He handed the medic a business card.

"My contact details. Just in case."

Turning away, Gordon heard them mutter about 'rude people' but as the headache grew, he wasn't sure if he really cared what they thought of him. All he wanted was to leave the forest and get back home to sleep of the stars dancing in his vision. Or, his brain supplied, have a pint at Edward's then going home to sleep off the stars and forget the weirdness of that morning. A good pint solved everything including strange migraine visions. Gresley sprang forward tugging his lead, seemingly reading Gordon's mind. Edward always did spoil him with bits of bacon and sausage. Edward's it was Gordon decided as he turned down the path, Gresley happily pulling him forward.


End file.
